


Stimulating Conversation

by avawtsn



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Female John Watson, Female Sherlock Holmes, Female Sherlock Holmes/Female John Watson, Femlock, Genderbending, Lesbian Sex, POV Sherlock Holmes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rutting, ladies being realistically wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 12:10:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avawtsn/pseuds/avawtsn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which ladies are realistically wet, Jane Watson gets her, and Sherlock Holmes stoops to the level of puns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stimulating Conversation

With Jane straddled across Sherlock's lap, they are nearly the same height. In fact, Jane is slightly taller, which Sherlock finds she's very much enjoying. Jane's arms fit like they belong around Sherlock's neck as they kiss, her clever fingers wrapping perfectly amongst locks at the top of Sherlock's head. By comparison, Sherlock feels like a virginal tosser with her hands sitting undynamically on Jane's mid back. But as she starts running down the thought tree she has for where her hands ought to move next, she feels Jane round her back and then distinctly straighten back up. And then a repeat.

 Grinding. _Rutting_. Jane is rubbing herself onto Sherlock, and she nearly goes dizzy with the realization. She lets her hands settle onto Jane's waist so she can feel Jane ride her. Jane Watson: able to make the job of sitting perfectly still seem like the most interesting thing in the world. Sherlock feels blood-hot, heat pooling in her lap where Jane is moving and making its way to her face. Her head feels likes steam. Thank god Jane is sitting atop her or she'd float away like a hot air balloon, she thinks.

 After long moments, Sherlock isn't yet done cataloguing the curving motion of Jane's hips, isn't done tasting her at different intervals of arousal. Occasionally, a particularly electric pinch to her nipple or teasing tongue in her ear takes her brain offline, but she's nearly gotten used to the sensory input an undulating, dominating Jane represents. Only now she would have to be dead to miss the frustration Jane is increasingly exhibiting: more frequent, more aggressive biting of Sherlock's lips, both top and bottom, a louder whimpering moan when Sherlock returns the same, fingers wrapping more assertively into Sherlock's curls, pulling experimentally. Jane may be content to snog, but this is Jane's body begging for more.

 "Move," Sherlock says, the word smothered by Jane's lips.

"What?" Jane pulls back and blinks like she's just woken up to a sunbeam in the eye. Reflexively, she shifts back on Sherlock's lap, putting more space between them. Sherlock feels cold already, body bereft. Her lips tingle, tongue slow to form words.

"Move," Sherlock repeats. "Off." 

With gentle pressure at Jane's waist, Sherlock tries to lift her up, but the frozen look of mortification on Jane's face immediately arrests her. Cold alarm fills her suddenly. "No, no, _no_ , I meant," she says, hurried. "Ride me. I want you to."

Jane blinks. 

"Just. You're frustrated in this position. Ride me _here_." Sherlock points to a spot high up on her left thigh, near the join of her leg to her hip.

Jane is nodding slowly, cautious. "Okay, I'm sorry. I just thought --"

"I know. You were wrong," Sherlock interrupts. 

"You were misleading."

"You were forming bricks without clay."

"What?" More blinking. 

"Never mind. Please continue the snogging and the rutting, I much preferred that to this." Sherlock is petulant, lap cooling without Jane's body heat to supply it.

"Yeah, stimulating conversation this," Jane says, but she grins as she speaks.

"I daresay it's actually _ceased_ being stimulating," Sherlock half growls, half pouts.

"My god, did I just lower the great Sherlock Holmes to the level of _puns_?" Jane laughs.

"Shut up," Sherlock retorts, now grinning back.

"Make me."

"Only too glad," Sherlock returns, already pulling Jane close by her upper arms to fit their lips together. Sherlock can feel Jane smiling into the kiss, and it's possibly the most brilliant, incandescent feeling she's ever encountered.

Jane's body slots back in against Sherlock's, chests pressed softly together and filling in the dearth of warmth she'd left behind. She is languid and supple in Sherlock's arms, moving her left leg lazily backward on the bed and bringing it forward again to sit between Sherlock's. 

Sherlock raises herself up to kneeling and then rests her weight back down on her feet. Jane is still straddling Sherlock's upper thigh in this position, but Jane is supporting more of her own weight, leaving her own thigh fitted neatly against Sherlock's crotch. Jane's bare knee has nudged up and parted Sherlock's labia lips, sending warm wetness down Jane's leg. Sherlock flushes, sucking in a breath at the contact.

"God, you are wet," Jane murmurs, eyes half lidded.

"You're one to talk." Sherlock means to sound smart, snippy, but she's breathy instead.

Jane smiles her lazily sated look, which is incongruous when neither of them have technically been sated. "You want me to...?" Jane trails off.

"God, yes," Sherlock says, surprising herself. The thought had left her lips, utterly bypassing her brain. But, considering there seems nothing at all she would deny her, it's apt. Yes is apt.

Jane cups the side of Sherlock's face and turns her head slightly to fit their mouths together in this new position and slowly starts rutting on Sherlock's thigh.

The movement pulls a sigh from Sherlock. Jane's divine mouth, evidence of her wetness slicking up her leg, the rhythmic press of her thigh -- knee? -- against Sherlock's own wetness, and Sherlock has never been more content to stay still.

Slowly, Jane drops her hand from Sherlock's cheek to her neck, over her suprasternal notch and clavicle, down her sternum, and over to shyly cup a breast. She kneads it in her hand, rolling her finger -- possibly thumb -- over Sherlock's nipple, and the stuttering wheeze this pulls from somewhere high and thin in Sherlock's lungs could be her dying breath for all that she's interested in surviving this thing that Jane Watson is doing to her.

"You know," Jane says, smiling evilly into Sherlock's open mouthed kiss, "I'm meant to be the one making noises like that."

"Then," Sherlock answers, calling upon backup reserves of composure she had no idea she had, "you better catch up." She nips at Jane's smiling mouth and sucks aggressively on her bottom lip. 

Jane answers by growling and rutting in earnest against Sherlock's thigh. The movement sends the equivalent rubbing of Jane's thigh against Sherlock's swollen, dripping sex, pressing right against Sherlock's clit and pubic mound. Jane's leg parts Sherlock's labia enough to smear even more wetness onto her, and Sherlock's fingers curl into the flesh at Jane's waist like she were a life raft.

Fingers find the back of Sherlock's head and manage to push their faces together with even more force. She can't breathe, but it's completely secondary to Jane pinching Sherlock's nipple between her fingers, which sends her gasping into Jane's mouth.

Mouths now detached, Jane focusses her attentions on rubbing herself off on Sherlock's thigh, fascinating little grunting moans escaping her every two or three breaths.

Soon, Jane is pressing into her so hard that she bumps into Sherlock's hip at the crest of every movement. In turn, the grind of Jane's thigh against Sherlock's own wetness is relentless. Sherlock whimpers, the centre of her heating up with no exhaust.

Jane's pubic hair feels rough against her through all this rutting, probably chafing against the skin of her thigh. If Sherlock had blood flow to spare, she'd probably flush at the thought of Jane marking her under her clothes -- out of her clothes too, for that matter -- but flush and blood close to the surface seems her permanent state with Jane bringing herself off on Sherlock's leg.

Jane rocks faster and faster on Sherlock's thigh. Sherlock's breaths come faster as well, though she isn't entirely sure why that is. It seems incongruous when Jane is the one moving, the one expending the effort. Sherlock tucks away the thought for another time.

Jane's eyes slide shut and her mouth closes the breath's distance to Sherlock's lips. This kiss is loose, wet, done between pants, like mouths mingling instead of clawing at each other like before.

Sherlock is as good as mesmerised. For all that she's the still one in this configuration, she nonetheless finds herself out of breath when Jane freezes entirely, gasping herself free from Sherlock's mouth.

 _Oh god you're coming_ , Sherlock lacks the breath to say. 

When Jane exhales a beat later, it is with a high flutter of a moan and the ghost of movement still finishing itself out as she rocks halfheartedly on Sherlock. In another moment, Jane stills completely and brings her forehead to rest on Sherlock's shoulder.

"Stimulating conversation, in-fucking-deed," Jane sighs.

"What?" Sherlock furrows her brow. Had they been talking during all that and she'd managed to miss it? They had been kissing, hadn't they?  Snogging nearly the entire time?  Sherlock tries to rewind to review but the data tapes have turned to treacle.

"Before we did...all that, I said, 'stimulating conversation, this' and then...we did that," Jane says, sleepy amusement in her voice.

"Eloquent as ever," Sherlock retorts.

"Oh shut up."

Jane grins. "You did make me."

"And how the hell do _you_ remember all that?"

"Remember what?"

"Things we talked about before we had sex. My mind's a mess. Hormonal soup. Chemical chaos. Data tapes treacle."

Jane grins even wider. "My hard drive must be bigger than yours."

Sherlock's jaw drops. "You did not just --"

"What?"

Sherlock snogs her. Jane Watson's made her.

**Author's Note:**

> I talk a lot on twitter about finding sex scenes I'd written up and forgotten about completely. This is one of them. I hope you enjoyed. This is my second femlock and third smutfic overall I'm posting to the fandom so it would be lovely to know what you thought. If you don't want to leave a comment below, you can also find me on tumblr as [avawatson](http://avawatson.tumblr.com), anons are open. Thank you for reading!


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